“architectural plans for many [residential] schools included cemeteries… laid out in advance of the building” http://ow.ly/q9Sxu
Author Archives: deterr
Dear Rex: Colonialism exists, and you’re it.
Dear Rex Murphy,
When you write that Canadians are offended at the term ‘settler’ and ‘genocide,’ you don’t speak for all of us. I’m a Canadian citizen, my ancestors came to Canada from Europe a few centuries ago, and I understand myself as a settler. It’s not disrespectful for indigenous peoples to remind us of Canada’s legacy of genocide. It’s not rude for indigenous peoples to label as ‘colonial’ the connections between the industries of resource extraction, the RCMP, and the corporate media you write for. What’s insulting is your attempt to paint Canada as benevolent, open, and respectful of indigenous peoples, and your contempt for any understanding of present-day colonialism and oppression in Canada.
I’m not an expert on colonialism, but clearly neither are you. In reading your vitriolic editorial, it struck me that you clearly hate the term ‘settler’ and ‘colonialism’; however, your writing also indicates that you probably don’t actually understand what these terms mean. So I’m writing to you, one white settler to another, to explain to you what settler colonialism means to me, and why I think it’s important for understanding (and living in) present-day Canada. With that said, I’m not convinced you’re really ignorant of these terms; I think you have a sense of their meaning and the implications, and it terrifies you, but that terror turns to anger before you can really feel it. I think you—and many other Canadians—know that something is deeply wrong, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. It’s something in the air, something we feel in our gut: we’re caught up in something horrible, and we can’t go on this way.
I think that’s why the truths spoken by indigenous people provoke so much resentment in people like you: because you know they’re speaking the truth. It’s plain for everyone to see: Elsipogtog and other instances of indigenous resistance aren’t political stunts by over-educated ‘radicals’ as you’d like to portray them; they are principled stands by everyday people—grandmothers, fathers, mothers, and their children—against rampant and unending extraction, exploitation, and destruction. These communities are not motivated by abstract ideologies or university jargon, but by deep responsibilities and commitments to protect land and people.
Leanne Betasamosake Simpson puts it clearly:
The story here, the real story, is virtually the same story in every Indigenous nation: Over the past several centuries we have been violently dispossessed of most of our land to make room for settlement and resource development. The very active system of settler colonialism maintains that dispossession and erases us from the consciousness of settler Canadians except in ways that is deemed acceptable and non-threatening to the state. We start out dissenting and registering our dissent through state sanctioned mechanisms like environmental impact assessments. Our dissent is ignored. Some of us explore Canadian legal strategies, even though the courts are stacked against us. Slowly but surely we get backed into a corner where the only thing left to do is to put our bodies on the land. The response is always the same – intimidation, force, violence, media smear campaigns, criminalization, silence, talk, negotiation, “new relationships”, promises, placated resistance and then more broken promises. Then the cycle repeats itself.
This is the structure of settler colonialism. One of the basic assumptions of your editorial—and virtually all other mainstream media coverage of Elsipogtog—is that colonialism happened sometime in the past, and since then Canada has done a lot to “right our historical wrongs.” When do you imagine colonialism stopped happening in Canada? When the last piece of land was mapped, surveyed, and appropriated for the Crown? When government officials first broke their treaties with indigenous nations so that settlement and resource exploitation could continue? When the last residential school was closed? When Stephen Harper issued an official apology five years ago? When he declared that Canada has no history of colonialism a year later? Of course, Canada has changed, and so have settler attitudes. But the structure of settler colonialism is still very much intact.
You will likely dismiss my words as part of the “academically-generated ‘narratives’ of colonialism.” Indeed, I first learned about colonialism in university, and I’m a student of some of the “colonial theory” you denounce. But I only learned about colonialism in university because my public school education taught me that indigenous peoples had been wiped out in Canada, victims of the inevitable and noble march of progress. Why do you suppose our public school system hides the history of residential schools, forced removal of indigenous people, ecological devastation, racist policies, theft of land, and broken treaties? Could it be that we’re trying to cover up the fact that Canadian colonialism never ended—that it’s an ongoing process?
More and more Canadians are beginning to see that an ever-expanding economy based on exploitation of land and people can’t go on forever, and the impacts are also hitting home in more communities. More Canadians are recognizing that voting for someone every four years isn’t real enfranchisement, and that this system is designed to foreclose popular participation, not encourage it. More of us are seeing the need to take a stand to protect our families, the places we love, non-human life, and future generations. More Canadians are beginning to see that this is what indigenous people have been saying (and doing) all along: defending their lands and communities against an ongoing colonial process. With these recognitions comes one of the least comfortable: that we are caught up in this process—deeply enmeshed and complicit in it—as settlers.
Just as we feel the wrongness of colonialism in our gut, we can feel the emptiness of settler ways of life. This isn’t just about “mentalities,” as you suggest, although the way we think is certainly part of it. It’s most concretely about how we relate to each other and the land that sustains us (whether we recognize it or not). Settler colonialism has produced a world where our food is industrialized and grown with chemicals, our political system is rigidly bureaucratic and exclusive, our culture promotes objectification and normalizes rape, our economic system is premised on exploitation and unending growth, our divisions of labour are racist and patriarchal, almost all forests and ecosystems have been pillaged and degraded, and our everyday lives are increasingly mediated through bureaucracies and commodities. This is not to say that indigenous people are somehow outside these ways of life; however, they have consistently resisted our attempts at assimilation and resource exploitation. They have maintained and revitalized their own ways of life, and have refused to be incorporated into the fold of settler colonialism. Elsipogtog is only the latest conflict in a centuries-long struggle.
Our ways of life are predicated upon the continued subjugation of indigenous peoples and the exploitation of their lands. For settlers, this is a terrifying thing to recognize: if our whole lives are based on this system, how could we be otherwise? For many Canadians—and I think you’re part of this group, Rex—this uncertainty is quickly converted into a glib certainty that the problem is them: they’ve failed to integrate, or failed to govern themselves, or failed to obey the (our) law. The settler problem gets converted into the age-old Indian problem. But I think we know, deep down, even when we’re in denial, that it’s us: that we need to take action and change ourselves through the process.
We are living in the midst of indigenous resurgence. All over the lands claimed by Canada, indigenous peoples are revitalizing their traditions and languages, reclaiming their lands and responsibilities, and refusing the colonial status quo. We’re also in the midst of a decline of faith in the ways of life we’ve created, even among those most privileged by this system: the middle-class dream is evaporating, we’re hurtling towards ecological collapse, and the alliances between corporations and politicians are increasingly obvious. Settlers—some of us—are learning to listen to that feeling of wrongness in our gut, unsettling ourselves, building solidarity, and finding new (and old) ways of relating. None of us have figured it out, but more of us are recognizing that things need to change, and the problem is as much ‘in here’ as ‘out there’. There is no neutral territory here, because doing nothing carries us along with the flow of colonialism.
We can’t wait for everyone. Indigenous peoples can never afford to wait for support from settler society, and struggles in the future will continue to involve contention and conflict. Settlers are learning how to take leadership from indigenous communities, and real alliances and solidarities are being forged. As we learn to listen to our gut and shake off our colonial baggage, indigenous people defending their lands seem increasingly reasonable and admirable, and the supporters of colonialism, like you, Rex, seem pitiful and dangerous.
Sincerely,
Nick Montgomery
Layla AbdelRahim – Wild Children, Domesticated Dreams: Civilization and the Birth of Education
This book is a primitivist critique of education and domestication which, AbdelRahim argues, is at the heart of civilization. Whereas empathy is at the heart of wilderness (and the capacity to live well in it), civilization is characterized by alienation, hatred, destruction and violence. All of these values, she argues, are instilled by education, which works through routine and coercion, destroying kids’ capacities for curiosity and instilling obedience and apathy. At the center of the whole problem, AbdelRahim argues, is domestication: the ways in which other living beings are violently diverted from their own purposes, and made to serve the purposes of human masters. Animals, plants, and other humans are all domesticated, and often internalize their own domestication: they become civilized themselves, and all of this becomes naturalized. AbdelRahim shows how these values of civilization are internalized: not just mentally, but folded into bodies through discipline, routine, and the naturalization of domestic life. She draws on Bourdieu and his conception of habitus to emphasize the ways in which education—and other institutions of civilization—reproduce themselves, and continue to work regardless of the intentions of those participating in them.
AbdelRahim weaves in her experiences of parenting and learning from her daughter, Ljuba, which helps reveal the powerful creative and free-thinking capacities of children, and the reactionary and domineering tendencies of education and civilized parenting. It helps to show how folks can live and relate to one another differently—in this case, in terms of parenting and unschooling—as a way to create alternatives within and against civilization. I wish the author had discussed her own experience more, and talked about her own strategies and practices around parenting, given her radical critique of civilized child-rearing. The use of narrative personalizes the text, so that the author appears as a parent figuring out how to raise a kid in a radical, compassionate way, rather than just an author that writes about it. Knowing that someone is trying to live the thing they’re talking about always makes me a more compassionate reader, too.
She also introduces the concept of dominanta: the force that drives humans to learn and grow. People thrive when the dominanta is allowed to flourish through curiosity, investigation, and creative experimentation. It requires willful effort, and so it’s quashed by the coercive and regimented patterns of schooling: children are lumped together into regimented instruction sessions and their own curiosity and capacity for self-directed learning is stifled. “Rearing and caring for the dominanta, says Arshavsky, is the ultimate expression of love” (98). It creates conscientious and compassionate people, whereas education creates obedient, violent, and oppressive people.
AbdelRahim raises a number of really important and interesting questions about civilization. The complexity of the problems is often obscured by her polemical approach (see below) but she also opens them up in interesting ways. I think some of her definitions and solutions to these problems are inadequate, but the inadequacy is thought-provoking in itself:
What is domestication? AbdelRahim argues that “distinctions between husbandry and domestication are of little relevance here,” lumping them together as practices that “stem from interference in the reproductive strategies of others for the purpose of consumption or the benefit of the one who interferes” (2). Civilization is then the “sum outcome of the products of domestication” (3). The domesticated victim’s resistance is rendered illegitimate in this process, and “it needs schedules, curbs imagination and eliminates playfulness and improvisation” (3). I had a conversation with a friend about this book before I read it, and we ended up discussing this definition. I asked whether the Lekwungen peoples whose land we’re on would be considered “domesticated,” because (among other practices of cultivation) they use controlled burns to cultivate camas bulbs. They clearly interfered with the reproductive cycles of numerous plants, in order to decrease competition and allow the camas bulbs to grow larger than they would without human intervention. Indigenous peoples across Turtle Island cultivate plants (and did before colonization), the most famous example being the “three sisters” guild of squash, corn and beans. Undoubtedly these crops were “domesticated” in the sense that they were progressively selected for taste, yield, disease resistance, hardiness, and other traits–this would seem to be a form of domestication for AbdelRahim. At the same time, these practices are much less regimented than European agriculture, and they exist in a symbiotic relationship with ecosystems. They don’t seem to be ‘wild’ but they also don’t have the destructive effects that AbdelRahim ascribes to ‘domestication.’ I think there’s a wide array of practices in this in-between space, and it’s not clear how to think about them. At other times she locates the problem in the conception of “resources;” as soon as this category comes into existence, humans “invented the concept of the right to consume the labour, life and/or flesh of that resource” (12). Is there are a hard-and-fast distinction between recognizing something that sustains me—like the beans in my garden—and conceiving it as a resource? For sure, there are distinctions here: of course monoculture really is different from biodiverse wild food sources; however, for most people, the lived realities of these food sources will be totally impure: a tangled hybrid of domestic and wild. Foragers might drive their cars to harvest wild berries, and farmers might have more intimate and compassionate relationships to non-humans than the staunchest urbanized animal liberationists. So how can the concepts of ‘domestic’ and ‘wild’ be made useful in terms of thinking about our own (impure) practices in everyday life? If the radical critique of civilization is really compelling, what concepts, values, relationships, and lifeways might help us live differently? If, as AbdelRahim seems to suggest, almost everything and everyone is under the grip of civilization, how do we begin from this impure, at-least-partly-domesticated space? AbdelRahim does have some tidbits here:
- Seeing life as a gift “impels people to honour the earth and safeguard its diversity” (13)
- “societies that see prosperity in terms of secured access to food, fresh air, water and health for all, understand safety as community with their surroundings” (18)
- “Symbiotic relationships stem from wild intelligence where each individual is part of a diverse yet interdependent group and thus knows how to attune to the real, unrepresented and unmediated experiences of others always and necessarily in a new way” (30)
- “Spaces of wilderness are places of introspection, of privacy, of trust, of relationships and of respect. Because these spaces exist for their own purpose and are in constant dialogue with the unpredictable yet viable chaos that is life, humans must learn to trust wilderness, including their own and that of their children” (78).
- “When we spend time and effort making our own things, we make only what is necessary, mostly of recycled matter, and do not need to exploit the natural and human “resources” in order to buy superfluous things” (84).
- “Our healing depends on community. It depends on diversity in that community and that extends across species, across the binding dimensions of time and space, even across the borders that delimit our notions of life” (111).
One of the most interesting examples here is her discussion of a sports complex in their house, with rings, ladders, ropes, a swinging bar and a slide. AbdelRahim explains how she doesn’t interfere with suggestions or help when her daughter Ljuba is playing, allowing her to learn for herself and become capable. After discussing the example, they admit that the complex is “only an artificial substitute for the endless possibilities offered by forests, riverbank slopes, country house roofs, and so forth,” and that these are inaccessible because of “the underdeveloped public transportation infrastructure [it should be developed more?], hefty fees, private property laws and the destruction of natural habitat” (79). AbdelRahim argues that it’s less about the object itself, and more about “our approach to the object, to the meanings attached to this object and to the limitations or the liberties that we ascribe to our child” (79). Without dismissing the connections to civilization here, AbdelRahim develops an analysis of the ways in which what she calls ‘wildness’ can be cultivated in cities, with objects that are products of domestication or civilization: it’s more about the ways they’re approached and used, and the relationships they sustain. Is this a clue for thinking constructively about creating alternatives within a civilized, domesticated context?
The text is extremely polemical, seeking to establish certainties about the immorality of civilization and its insidious effects on us. I think this approach creates a number of weaknesses:
It leads AbdelRahim to emphasize civilization and wilderness as a binary, as if they are mutually exclusive or opposed ‘wholes,’ rather than exploring the complicated relationships between civilization and wilderness (there are “cultures of domestication” and “cultures of wildness” (2); the “wild person knows the self in relationship to a world that iexists for its own purpose, while the civilized knows the self as master of a world to be conquered, modified, tamed, educatied and possessed” (29); “love and reproduction” versus “personal gratification and “the desire to possess” (96)). At times, she suggests that there is resistance everywhere, and there’s a constant possibility that bits and pieces of civilization will ‘go feral.’ But at other times, wilderness seems like a romantic and lost past, hopelessly buried by literacy, education, agriculture, and the other interlinked institutions and processes of civilization and domestication. In this tendency, ‘the wild’ appears as an Eden that is both perfect and impossible.
The polemical style prevents AbdelRahim from exploring some of the more ambivalent and ambiguous aspects of domestication and civilization. Sometimes she presents civilization in a fairly linear and deterministic way: “Ultimately, the type of life and system of subsistence we envisage for ourselves leads to the type of socio-ecological relationships which, in turn, leads to the question of whether children are seen as capable of learning how to live in this world on their own or whether they need to be taught” (4). Or elsewhere: “literacy has become the DNA of oppressive and concurrently oppressed brains, which by means of apathy and abstraction brought about a significant shift in the nature of intelligence causing serious deterioration in understanding, knowledge, and relationships (96). Does civilization have any ‘root’ (Literacy? Domestication? Agriculture? War?) Or is it more about the ways in which all these practices become linked together over time as part of a networked apparatus? AbdelRahim seems to want to locate the root, and this sometimes prevents her from foregrounding and analyzing the complicated networks of these institutions and practices. It also prevents her from acknowledging what these practices make possible: literacy and education are subjected to a radical critique (and rejection?) in this text, but this text is also a product of education and literacy. What does it mean to make use of civilized tools and practices in this way? Are there ways of using them that can help destabilize or create alternatives to civilization?
The text doesn’t discuss much in the way of alternatives and resistance to civilization, focusing instead on civilization, domestication, and education. AbdelRahim weaves in examples of deschooling from her own life, but doesn’t say much about other practices. One of the few examples is drawn from a therapist she interviews, who argues that collective therapy based in empathy can be a way of healing from the trauma of civilization. AbdelRahim draws on her twice in the book—near the beginning and near the end—but doesn’t say much, analytically, about how this person’s therapeutic practices (or her own unschooling practices) might relate to other contexts and broader movements against civilization. Similarly, she mentions the ELF, the ALF, Kroptkin, William King, and others who chose to “renounce their privilege to oppress and join the ranks of the oppressed,” but this falls back into the binary: they’ve chosen to “stop doing what causes others to suffer” (43). Is this possible? As AbdelRahim argues elsewhere: “not everyone is this utterly and hopelessly civilized, and therefore not everyone rapes literally. Many continue to fight for wild relationships even if they do not always call them so. Still, we are all implicated in this system and our interests are enmeshed in its hierarchical chain of predation, where each of us is concomitantly predator and prey” (58). Yes! So in a world where—as AbdelRahim argues convincingly—we’re immersed in civilization and complicit with it in ways far beyond our control, what does it mean to ‘renounce privilege’? She argues that Kropotkin and others “sought to build intelligent communities based on diversity” and I was hoping to find more discussion about what that looks like. It’s not really fair to criticize a book for what it’s not saying, but I think this relates to her approach, as well. If civilization is everywhere, then there’s not much to say about alternatives and resistance. But if, as AbdelRahim sometimes suggests, that resistance and wilderness are everywhere too, then one can’t talk about civilization without talking about the constant battles, struggles, and transformations taking place. In other words: when civilization is emphasized over resistance and alternatives, doesn’t it bely a certain pessimism about what’s possible? Is it possible that civilization has already achieved a certain kind of victory when it’s the central object of analysis and critique, rather than multiplicity of creative ways that people are subverting, resisting, and enacting alternatives to it?
Finally, like many primitivist writers, AbdelRahim uses indigenous peoples to legitimize some of her arguments against civilization, and in favour of wilderness. Specifically, she draws primarily on anthropology to subsume (certain) indigenous peoples into the ‘wild’ side of the binary. She draws on Sahlins and other anthropologists to argue that “noncivilized gatherer societies are the ones who had the most and the highest quality time of all” (103). Conveniently, she leaves out any mention of hunting, because it doesn’t seem to fit with her earlier argument that humans are natural herbivores. Many indigenous people have pointed to the importance of deep connections with the natural world as a core of living a rich life and being indigenous. But there’s something creepy about making this point by drawing primarily on anthropology and history, in order to represent indigenous peoples as ‘feral’ or ‘wild’. Indigenous peoples are represented as part of a romantic past, easily combined with AbdelRahim’s own romantic views of non-civilized life (“the wild purpose of life is to live for one’s own pleasure and leisure” (116)). This dovetails with dominant (“civilized”) representations of indigenous peoples as noble savages from the past: they’re inspiring, they lived better than we do, but they’re also irrevocably lost. It’s important to acknowledge that AbdelRahim never says this directly, but I think it’s a tendency in her narrative and in other primitivist texts. Representing indigenous peoples as wild beings makes it difficult to think through colonialism and decolonization here-and-now, including the ways in which indigenous peoples and settlers might relate to each other, share responsibilities, and decolonize themselves and their relationships to land. I don’t think these questions are necessarily incompatible with AbdelRahim’s critique of civilization and domestication, but they would add another layer of complexity.
I’d definitely recommend this book to anyone seeking to think through civilization, domestication, education, and their interlinkages. Even if you totally disagree with AbdelRahim’s conclusions, the problems she raises are really thought-provoking and important to think through.
Unist’ot’en Action Camp
The 4th annual Unist’ot’en Action Camp is coming up July 10-14th and will likely be the largest ever.
In their report on last year’s action camp, submedia.tv draws connections between the camp and its opposition to the PTP pipeline, the Tarsands, and industrial extraction more generally. They discuss the Wet’suwet’en’s recovery of the free prior informed consent and other traditions and responsibilities, and the importance of direct action.
Also, check out this article about the Unist’ot’en Camp in Earth First!
In it, Crow Qu’appelle writes:
The support from allies across the country during the November 27th day of action, Raising Resistance, proved that grassroots networks working together can equal or surpass the efforts of large NGO coalitions. Having money but often lacking base support, the NGO model has shown itself capable of mobilizing, and often wasting, large amounts of resources towards sensationalist one-off actions, and incapable, or uninterested, of developing meaningful relationships with communities. That is why the Unist’ot’en and Grassroots Wet’suwet’en in 2011 made the decision to turn from unhealthy, non-reciprocal NGO partnerships, and to go the grassroots direction instead looking to long-term sustained relationships for the future. In this context of looking to genuine, long-term community building, collectivist and mutual aid principles brought forward by Anarchist allies at camp have meshed well with communal indigenous practices.
Now is a crucial time to develop that spontaneous outpouring of grassroots support into a sustained solidarity network. Straight up, community awareness creates increased security for the camp. The more people that know about us and actively show support, the harder it is for government and industry to move against us.
Summary: Aragorn! – “Locating an Indigenous Anarchism”
Aragorn! – “Locating an Indigenous Anarchism” in Uncivilized: The Best of Green Anarchy (2012).
This is one of the first pieces of writing that attempted to bring anarchism and indigenism together (that I know of). It’s written in a non-academic style, without citations or jargon, and it’s pretty short. It engages brings together theory, practice, and political traditions in a nuanced way, and there’s a lot packed into a few pages.
The piece is framed as an imagined story, about what an indigenous anarchism would look like. It begins with the destruction of civilization, and the burning of cities. This is the precursor to an indigenous anarchism: “once we get beyond the flames we will have to craft a life together” (49).
“Indigenous” means “of the land we are actually on” and “anarchist” means “without authoritarian constraint” (49). The three main principles of anarchism, for Aragorn!, are direct action, mutual aid, and voluntary cooperation (50).
He is wary about setting down principles of indigenous anarchism: “If I believe in a value and then articulate that value as instrumental for an appropriate practice then what is the difference between my completely subjective (or self-serving) perspective and one that I could possibly share usefully? This question should continue to haunt us” (51).
But he cautiously states some first principles of indigenous anarchism:
- Everything is alive. There are no objects, and there are no dead things: “Alive may not be the best word for what is being talked about but we could say imbibed with spirit or filled with the Great Spirit and we would mean the same thing. We will assume that a secular audience understands life as complex, interesting, in motion, and valuable. This same secular person may not see the Great Spirit in things that they are capable of seeing life in” (51)
- The ascendance of memory. He means something very specific by “memory” here, and suggests that our society is characterized by forgetting, but doesn’t say much about what this memory is… (51-2)
- Place: similar to memory, he argues that contemporary civilization places us nowhere (suburbs, stripmalls and airports are the ultimate examples of non-places). An anarchism of place doesn’t necessarily mean living in one place; it might entail moving with the seasons, or “travelling every year as conditions, or desire, dictated” (52). These choices would be dictated by people, and not “the exigency of economic or political priorities” (52).
- Family: the extended family is an extension of the principle that everything is alive: “the connection between living things, which we would shorthand call family, is the way that we understand ourselves in the world. We are part of a family and we know ourselves through family” (52).
- Self-determination and radical decentralization: “Self determination should be read as the desire for people who are self-organized (whether by tradition, individual choice, or inclination) to decide how they want to live with each other” (53). Aragorn! argues that these principles are often adopted in anarchist discourse, but they aren’t lived up to in practice. Anarchists often refuse any conception of ‘race,’ and this entails a refusal to understand and deal with indigenous people and people of colour, for whom these categories are very real. He’s not saying that these categories are real (or that they aren’t); he’s saying that anarchists often fail “to apply the principles of self-determination to the fact that real living and breathing people do identify within racial and cultural categories and that this identification has consequences in terms of dealing with one another… the answer is that these anarchists do not expect to deal with anyone outside of their understanding of reality. They expect reality to conform to their subjective understanding of it” (53).
He is also critical of the anarchist tradition for what he calls “repetitive criticism”—this form of critique is useful for “getting every member of a political tendency on the same page,” but its effect is often to generate suspicions and detachment from anarchistic events, rather than affirmations of them: “the form that anarchist criticism has taken about events in the world is more useful in shaping an understanding of what anarchists believe than what the world is” (54). Anarchist criticism is often turned in on itself, comparing the world and peoples’ efforts to an Anarchist ideal, and the world is always found deficient.
Aragorn! articulates a paradox of indigenous anarchism (and other anarchisms): “Anarchists would like to have it both ways. They would like to see their tradition as being growing and vital, along with being uncompromising and deeply radical. Since an anarchist society would be such a deep break from what we experience in this world, it is impossible to perceive any scenario that leads from here to there. There is no path” (54).
In other words, the vision of indigenous anarchism is so radically different from the dominant order that there’s no way to invent a strategy that would bring those conditions into existence. You can’t get there from here: “I will not finish this story with a happy ending that will not come true. This is a sharing” (55). He seems to call for patience, in the end, recalling his teachings: “The reason that I sit here and drink is because I am waiting for the white man to finish his business. And when he is done we will return” (55).
In the final paragraphs, he notes that the only indigenous anarchists he’s met have been native people, not because it’s impossible for nonnative ppl to live this way, but “because there are few teachers and even fewer students” (among the settler population) (55). This is another reason why settlers need to engage with indigenous peoples: “If learning how to live with these values is worth anything it is worth making the compromises necessary to learn how people have been living with them for thousands of years” (55).
From the Indian Problem to the Settler Problem: reactionaries, multiculturalists and decolonization.
The recent controversy over former BC NDP candidate Dayleen Van Ryswyk’s racism is part of a longstanding pattern in Canada. The mainstream media tends to frame these controversies as a debate between politically correct multiculturalists (like Adrian Dix) and reactionary racists (like Van Ryswyk). Both sides present different solutions to the “Indian Problem,” by asking how the Canadian government should deal with indigenous peoples. Forced out of this mainstream debate is the “Settler Problem:” the ongoing colonial present, and the possibilities of grassroots resistance, solidarity and decolonization.
Dayleen Van Ryswyk was recently forced to resign over comments she made about First Nations (and Quebecois) in an online discussion forum. Some highlights from her online tirades:
“It’s not the status cards, it’s the fact that we have been paying out of the nose for generations for something that isn’t our doing. If their ancestors sold out too cheap it’s not my fault and i shouldn’t have to be paying for any mistake or whatever you want to call it from MY hard earned money.”
“I don’t think anyone is saying that wrongs didn’t happen (incredible wrongs) you could have almost any race, group or ethnic people tell you horrible haunting stories of what happened to them. […] In my opinion, holding an entire group of people liable for something that happened hundreds of years ago, people who weren’t even alive yet for the wrongs of their ancestors is ridiculous.”
“I’m getting so sick of having french stuffed down my throat..this isn’t Quebec,,it’s western Canada…we speak english here…so does the majority of Canada. I’m offended that the french is spoken first. […] Why can’t we celebrate Canada’s diverse cultures..everyone..not just natives!”
Van Ryswyk was quickly forced to resign by BC NDP leader Adrian Dix, and she quickly received a flood of support from her constituents in Kelowna and others across Canada. Now she’s running as an independent. Recent polls by Castanet showed 73% of those polled didn’t think Van Ryswyk’s comments were inappropriate, and 49% will vote for her (against the runner-up Liberal candidate with 40%).
In short, Ryswyk’s comments may have made her more popular, and her comments clearly resonate with many Canadians. Others (including the BC Liberals and NDPers) have insisted her comments were racist, offensive, and inappropriate. Van Ryswyk and her supporters have insisted that Van Ryswyk was just saying what most politicians won’t, because of political correctness. So is Van Ryswyk racist, or is she just cutting through the bullshit of Canadian political correctness?
Both. The debate between Ryswyk and other, more ‘tolerant’ politicians repeats a pattern of debate in the mainstream media between reactionaries and multiculturalists. Elsewhere, I’ve called them Upsettler zombies and Monarchist demons. Both camps ultimately reinforce Canada’s colonial present by presenting different solutions to the same problem.
Reactionaries and the exploitation of indigenous lands
On Ryswyck’s side are the Canadian reactionaries: settlers who resent what they see as Canada’s “special treatment” of indigenous peoples. They tend mobilize arguments about equality and fairness, claiming that indigenous peoples receive undue ‘handouts’ from federal and provincial governments. Recently disgraced Canadian academic Tom Flanagan publicly held this view for decades (and still does). His book First Nations, Second Thoughts basically calls for the end to Aboriginal status: indigenous peoples should be stripped of any special rights or entitlements, so that they are the same as other Canadians. In the BC context, Mel Smith’s best-seller, Our Home Or Native Land famously attacks indigenous land claims:
Tiny communities are given enormous tracts of land while the majority of Canadians is not only ignored but kept in the dark. Incredible sums of money are spent–worse, even larger amounts are committed to be paid by future generations.
The views of Flanagan and Smith dovetail with Van Ryswyk’s and a flood of others who reacted to Idle No More with outrage and hatred, such Globe and Mail columnist Jeffrey Simpson, who likened indigenous communities to tiny, delusional, dysfunctional municipalities, entirely dependent on government subsidies. A recent editorial in the Nanaimo Daily News by Don Olsen argued that indigenous societies are primitive peoples, devoid of technology and civilization, who now lack the ability to take care of themselves. Michelle Tittler runs a facebook page entitled “End Race-Based Law,” calling for an end to any laws that distinguish First Nations people from settler Canadians. Like other reactionaries, these tirades are often couched in the language of equality. Olsen proclaims that the only solution is to “bring them into society as equals. They should be getting jobs and paying taxes like the rest of us.”
The idea that indigenous peoples are dependent on subsidies and so need to be “brought in” to Canadian society is one of the most prevalent myths in Canada. For example, when Idle No More began, the Conservative government leaked documents about Attawapiskat, suggesting fiscal mismanagement and corruption by Chief Theresa Spence. But as Drew Oja Jay explains,
Right now, DeBeers is constructing a $1 billion mine on the traditional territory of the Āhtawāpiskatowi ininiwak. Anticipated revenues will top $6.7 billion. Currently, the Conservative government is subjecting the budget of the Cree to extensive scrutiny. But the total amount transferred to the First Nation since 2006 — $90 million — is a little more than one per cent of the anticipated mine revenues. As a percentage, that’s a little over half of Harper’s cut to GST.Royalties from the mine do not go to the First Nation, but straight to the provincial government. The community has received some temporary jobs in the mine, and future generations will have to deal with the consequences of a giant open pit mine in their back yard.Attawapiskat is subsidizing DeBeers, Canada and Ontario.
Indigenous peoples are not economically dependent on Canada; Canada is economically dependent on the exploitation of indigenous lands (and on the subjugation of indigenous peoples who would protect those lands). When indigenous peoples refuse to accept resource extraction on their lands, the reactionaries call for the ‘rule of law.’ Since the law allows for resource extraction and environmental destruction and criminalizes resistance, they are calling for the continuation of settler colonialism. ‘Canada’ is made possible through this ongoing colonization, and it has consistently tried to assimilate and eliminate indigenous people so that land exploitation can continue.
These views aren’t just racist, radical outliers on the fringe of Canadian ideology. They’re entirely in line with much of Canadian policy and practice. For example, Pierre Trudeau’s 1969 White Paper aimed to wipe away any special relationship between Canada and indigenous peoples. The White Paper sought to eliminate “Indian status” and treat indigenous peoples as citizens with the same rights as settler Canadians. This was a final solution to the problem indigenous peoples posed to land exploitation and settlement, and the White Paper was only defeated because of a wave of mobilizations and resistance across indigenous communities and the lands claimed by Canada. When reactionaries mobilize arguments about equality and fairness, they’re in line with past policies like the White Paper, which would assimilate indigenous peoples completely and immediately into settler society, at least under Canadian law.
Multiculturalists, benevolence, and land negotiations
On the opposing side of the mainstream debate are the Canadian multiculturalists. They advocate a more measured approach, supporting some combination of reform and recognition of the special status of First Nations. BC leader Adrian Dix quickly denounced Ryswyk’s comments as “unacceptable” and forced her to resign. He is likely to be the next Premier of BC, and the NDP is being billed as a party that is more sensitive to the concerns of environmentalists and indigenous peoples. Multiculturalists are much more willing to negotiate with First Nations, as long as they don’t get in the way of the Canadian economy and its industries. Multiculturalists support some version of limited self-government, the resolution of land claims, and special rights for First Nations.
Multiculturalists are experts at appearing benevolent and respectful. A Dix government in BC will try to kill the Enbridge pipeline plan and invest in ‘green’ initiatives, but it will support other pipelines, logging of old growth forests, and other industries on unceded indigenous territories. Indigenous communities will continue to be faced with blackmails framed as opportunities: collaborate with ecologically disastrous resource extraction and get a tiny portion of the revenue, or resist, receive nothing, and the project will likely go ahead anyway. But multiculturalists would never put it in such stark terms. They are always in favour of negotiations, reasonableness, and compromise. For federal and provincial governments, this means negotiating with First Nations band councils on special rights, entitlements, forms of self-governance, and revenue-sharing agreements, without radically reshaping Canada or its relationship to indigenous peoples.
A prime example of this is the British Columbia Treaty Commission. The BCTC is often celebrated as an example of decolonization and multiculturalism. It is supposed to result in the return of unceded territories to indigenous peoples in BC and usher in a new relationship between settler governments and indigenous peoples. But the process was designed by Canadian settlers, and indigenous peoples were then invited to negotiate for a tiny portion of their lands (around 5%) through their band councils. If negotiations ever finish, the land is not returned to indigenous peoples allowing them to manage it and govern it autonomously; all land remains under federal and provincial authority, reclassified under the Land Title Act. Taiaiake Alfred outlines the extreme limitations of the BCTC process:
- No recovery of indigenous lands held by private individuals.
- Municipalities retain present legal authorities in indigenous territories.
- Non-indigenous people have access to indigenous lands.
- Non-indigenous people not subject to indigenous laws.
- No new budgetary allocations for agreements.
- Federal government pays most of the costs of negotiations and agreements.
- Non-indigenous companies on indigenous lands will be paid a settlement.
- Province keeps control resource management and environmental protection.
Federal and provincial governments aren’t negotiating with indigenous peoples with the aim of returning any of their lands. The intention is to change the way a small portion of these lands are classified under Canadian law, while ensuring complete control over the rest. The government also loans First Nations the money required for the legal fees in this process, sending them into crippling debt, which forces them to follow through on the process so that they can use their settlements to pay it off. The BCTC requires indigenous peoples to give up the capacity to advance any future assertions of rights or land claims as part of the agreement. The federal department of Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development explains the economic imperative behind the BCTC:
Uncertainty about the existence and location of Aboriginal rights create uncertainty with respect to ownership, use and management of land and resources. That uncertainty has led to disruptions and delays to economic activity in BC. It has also discouraged investment.
The consequences of not concluding treaties are lost economic activity as well as escalating court costs and continued uncertainty. Key benefits of negotiated settlements are economic and legal certainty as well as harmonized arrangements between the different levels of government.
The overarching aim of the BCTC is to ensure that settler governments can have economic and political certainty over land and resources, so that resource extraction and industrialization can continue. As Nuu-chah-nulth scholar Johnny Mack writes:
The conclusion seems unavoidable – the provisions [of the BCTC] ensure that we are still subject to a constitutional legal order that we did not create, and within that order, only 5 percent of the lands taken from us will be returned to us. Rather than providing for a reincorporation of the colonial takings into our own story, this process acquires our consent to lock that plunder into the state structure, where it will be subject to state authority and exposed to the hungry forces of the global market.
This situation has led many indigenous people (and whole communities) to abandon the BCTC and other offers of reconciliation by colonial authorities. These policies are the legacy of multiculturalism in Canada, which promise reconciliation and respectful relationships. As an indigenous mentor once explained to me, this is like breaking into someone’s house, killing most of their family, and trying to force them into the closet for years while we ransack the place and make ourselves at home. Indigenous peoples resisted the whole way along, and most forms of resistance are criminalized. The reactionaries are angry that they still have to put up with people making noise in the closet, and they are especially outraged when the homeowners disrupt the goings-on in the rest of the house. The multiculturalists announce that they want to negotiate and maybe indigenous peoples can have one more room in the house, under certain conditions. Neither party ever considers the fact that they’re uninvited guests, living in a stolen house, and destroying it.
Reactionary and Multicultural solutions to the “Indian Problem”
Multiculturalists and reactionaries are often portrayed as polar opposites by the mainstream media. The reactionaries like Van Rysywyk go on racist tirades, and the multiculturalists denounce this racism and call for respectful relationships with First Nations. Each camp resonates with different segments of the Canadian population. The reactionaries play on liberal notions of individual equality, mixed with the racist underpinnings of Canada and its attempts to eliminate indigenous peoples. The multiculturalists play on a different version of liberal equality, combined with the fantasy of a Canada where indigenous peoples are a little bit different, and a few policy tweaks makes everyone get along. To be clear, I’m not saying indigenous peoples shouldn’t negotiate with governments, or that they’re naive for doing so. I’m talking about the way in which Canadian multiculturalism is framed as respectful negotiation, while continuing to impose colonial structures on indigenous peoples.
The reactionary and the multiculturalist are two different solutions to the “Indian Problem” in Canada. The Indian Problem is a phrase made famous by Duncan Campbell Scott at the beginning of the 20th century, who sought to eliminate all indigenous peoples, either by outright extermination or forced assimilation:
“Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed into the body politic and there is no Indian question and no Indian department.”
This was the explicit purpose of Canada’s Indian Act. Some of its most heinous elements, such as residential schools, have since been abolished over the last half-century, but the Indian Problem continues to inform the way governments (and most Canadians) understand their relationship to indigenous peoples. When the Indian Act failed to destroy indigenous communities and eliminate all indigenous ways of life, Trudeau and others attempted to use the language of equality to finally assimilate them. In a different way, as Taiaiake Alfred explains, the BCLT is structured as a final solution to the Indian Problem:
In essence, the BCTC process is designed to solve the perceived problem of indigenous nationhood by extinguishing it and bringing indigenous peoples into Canada’s own domestic political and legal structures with certainty and finality […] the federal and provincial governments are evidently seeking to consolidate the assimilation and control they have gained over indigenous peoples and their lands since the collapse of indigenous social and political strength as a result of the mass dying by epidemic diseases – a tragedy that began to recede only in the early part of the 20th century.
Indigenous peoples are still prevented from accessing the vast amount of their traditional territories, and settler colonialism continues to occupy indigenous lands, extract resources from them, and subjugate indigenous peoples. When colonialism is discussed at all, it is framed in terms of the Indian Problem: what do we do about them? What do they want from us? How can we finally ‘move on’? The Canadian government still seeks to manage, assimilate, or eliminate indigenous peoples and their ways of life. That is the endgame of colonialism.
Reactionaries want to solve the Indian Problem by getting rid of any special status and assimilating indigenous peoples as equal citizens under Canadian law. The multiculturalist wants to allow some room for special rights and entitlements, and limited self-government, while ensuring that resource extraction and industrial development can continue. Both views lead settlers to understand colonialism as an “Aboriginal issue” that happened in the past, to be resolved by governments, with no implications for the daily lives of settlers. Settlers keep living in the house, arguing about whether indigenous peoples should be allowed a whole room, just a closet, or nothing at all.
The Settler Problem: complicity and decolonization
The problem is the Indian Problem itself. It tries to deal with indigenous peoples from within a colonial framework, and leaves that framework intact while framing colonialism as something in the past. As Adam Barker and others have argued in recent years, Canada actually has a ‘Settler Problem:’
“Settler people who are so immersed in colonial psychology that their political structures make co-existence with Indigenous peoples impossible.”
The Settler Problem invites settlers to focus the problem on ourselves, our institutions, and our inheritance of a colonial system that shapes the way we relate to indigenous peoples, each other, and the land we live on. The Settler Problem is ongoing; it’s not a past wrong to remedy through reparations. Settlers came, committed genocide, set up colonial institutions, occupied and pillaged the land, and we’ve inherited this situation. The recognition of settler involvement in ongoing colonialism often provokes paralyzing guilt or denial. A common reaction is that ‘we’ didn’t do anything; it was our ancestors (or other peoples’ ancestors).
Settlers are often eager to point out that they or their ancestors didn’t benefit from colonialism. My great great grandfather was an Irish indentured servant who was forced to come here and work for nothing. This implies colonialism is about individual blame or guilt, and we’re either guilty or we’re not. But this individualistic response frames colonialism as part of the past, rather than an ongoing project. As Lorenzo Veracini and Edward Cavanaugh write, in the definition of settler colonialism:
settler colonialism is a resilient formation that rarely ends. Not all migrants are settlers; […] settlers come to stay. They are founders of political orders who carry with them a distinct sovereign capacity. And settler colonialism is not colonialism: settlers want Indigenous people to vanish (but can make use of their labour before they are made to disappear).
The Settler Problem frames colonization as an ongoing phenomenon; it’s happening right now and we’re implicated in it, whether we like it or not. White, middle-class settlers like me are the ones with enough privilege to ignore it if we choose to: settler colonialism can fade into the background for some of us, as a way of life that seems normal and natural. Not all settlers have this option, and the settler/indigenous dichotomy can flatten out differences between settlers. ‘Settlers’ are often implicitly white, European-descended people whose ancestors took part in conquest and slavery. Depending on how it’s used, the term ‘settler’ can miss the ways that privileged white men like me are positioned differently from people who don’t benefit from the linked systems of capital accumulation, heteropatriarchy, and racism. But acknowledging these differences, privileges, and positions in the structure of settler colonialism doesn’t amount to much if it doesn’t affect the ways we live our everyday lives. The concept of ‘complicity’ has been advanced as a way to move beyond individualistic discussions of privilege, towards the ways that people are positioned differently in the colonial structure, with implications for collective action. As Beenash Jafri explains:
Complicity hasn’t been circulated in the same way as privilege. Nor are there many handy pedagogical tools or checklists for thinking about complicity. Complicity is a messy, complicated and entangled concept to think about; it is not as easy to grasp and, because of this, it requires a much deeper investment on our part. This would demand, for example, that we think about settlerhood not as an object that we possess, but as a field of operations into which we become socially positioned and implicated.
Complicity might offer a way out of individualistic, guilt-ridden discussions that often plague settlers’ coming-to-awareness of our roles in this process. Complicity focuses our attention on relationships and institutions, rather than individual identities. I don’t think this means that differences are flattened out, or oppression doesn’t matter; I will always have to keep unlearning my own heteropatriarchal, racist, colonial ways of thinking and being as a white guy; that unlearning is crucial for respectful relationships across difference. As El Machetero explains, complicity helps frame oppression and resistance as a collective project:
It also focuses much less on individuals, and much more on this system and its accompanying parasitical lifestyles, understanding that this is an arrangement which is violent, genocidal and ecocidal (since it increasingly involves the actual destruction of the land itself) and which makes accomplices of us all. What matters more than where such a system would choose to locate us for its own ends is what we choose to do together with one another, the strength and quality of the relationships and communities we build, and our knowledge of the context in which we live and our foresight towards the consequences which emerge from the choices we make within it.
Towards collective decolonization
The solution to the Settler Problem is collective decolonization: moving towards non-dominating relationships between settlers, indigenous peoples, and ecosystems. I have no idea what these decolonized relationships will look like, but I know it will take more than a multiculturalist yearning for a kinder Canada, or outraged denunciations of Van Ryswyk and other reactionaries, or a guilt-ridden ‘awareness’ of settler colonialism. What would it mean for settlers to act like uninvited guests? What are our responsibilities as settlers? What happens when settlers give up on their certainty and sense of entitlement to indigenous lands? How can settlers divest themselves from a faith in government and begin to build direct relationships with indigenous communities? How can settlers build alliances with indigenous peoples and help stop the destruction and exploitation of their lands? If settler colonialism is a ‘field of operations,’ how do we navigate this field? How can we disrupt its operations and construct alternatives? People are already asking and responding to these questions. There are indigenous peoples and settlers across the territories claimed by Canada who are resisting settler colonialism and working towards decolonization.
Many of these efforts were galvanized by Idle No More, though INM is only the most recent and visible movement of resistance and decolonization amongst indigenous peoples. From the perspective of the mainstream media, Idle No More seems to have vanished, but this is only because the mainstream media can only see things from the vantage point of the Indian Problem. If indigenous peoples aren’t publicly protesting and presenting demands to governments, there’s nothing happening. When Naomi Klein interviewed Nishnaabeg writer and activist Leanne Simpson, she asked Simpson what the next step was for Idle No More. Simpson replied:
“I think within the movement, we’re in the next phase. There’s a lot of teaching that’s happening right now in our community and with public teach-ins, there’s a lot of that internal work, a lot of educating and planning happening right now. There is a lot of internal nation-building work. It’s difficult to say where the movement will go because it is so beautifully diverse. I see perhaps a second phase that is going to be on the land. It’s going to be local and it’s going to be people standing up and opposing these large-scale industrial development projects that threaten our existence as indigenous peoples—in the Ring of Fire [region in Northern Ontario], tar sands, fracking, mining, deforestation… But where they might have done that through policy or through the Environmental Assessment Act or through legal means in the past, now it may be through direct action. Time will tell.”
Beyond the gaze of the mainstream media, things are happening all the time. In British Columbia for example, grassroots Wet’suwet’en peoples have erected a permanent camp and blockade on their lands to protect their territory from oil, gas, and bitumen pipelines from the Tar Sands and fracking projects.
They’ve been defending this camp for three years. In the process, they’ve forged alliances with settlers and other indigenous nations across the province, including an upcoming teach-in organized on Lekwungen and WSANEC territories (Victoria) on April 28th, on settler solidarity and decolonization:
This Teach-In will provide settlers with an understanding of how the destruction of land as well as violence experienced by Indigenous peoples, who stand in assertion of their inherent sovereignty, can be located in both a historical and contemporary reality of colonialism. In preparing for resistance to the Pacific Trail Pipelines, this Teach-In will begin to prepare settler people to stand alongside Indigenous peoples in resisting the ongoing processes of colonialism – whether that be at the Unis’tot’en camp in the spring and summer, or elsewhere.
As the description implies, this isn’t just a one-off event; it’s designed to create the conditions for meaningful and lasting solidarity with indigenous struggles, and it holds open the possibility of decolonized relationships between settlers and indigenous peoples. This is just one of hundreds of public events that focus on decolonizing the relationships between settlers and indigenous peoples on the lands claimed by Canada. And these public events are only the most visible forms of decolonization in response to the Settler Problem. The mainstream media won’t cover these efforts, and when they do, they’ll frame them as terrorism, because there is no place for them in the narrative of the Indian Problem. Shifting to the Settler Problem asks us all to reflect on the ways we’re caught up in settler colonialism, whether we like it or not.
Matt Soltys interviewed by Kelly Reinhardt
Matt Soltys ran a radio show for a number of years called Healing the Earth Radio, which made connections between capitalism, settler colonialism, the prison industrial complex, patriarchy, and other political struggles that are often left out of ecological politics or environmentalism. The interviews are archived on his website, and they are really great. He recently published a book called Tangled Roots, which includes some of the most significant interviews he did over the course of his radio show. I highly recommend this book; these interviews are really amazing and it’s rare to see such a wide diversity of voices and topics discussed, with lots of connections and resonances between them. I think this is one of the most important resources for anyone thinking about ecology and environmentalism in North America.
In an interview with Kelly Reinhardt, Matt Soltys discusses how he became involved in struggles around ecology, indigenous solidarity, and decolonization, among other things. He talks about how he draws strength and inspiration from nature and spends time listening to the land and conversing with other species, and he explains his efforts to unlearn Western, scientific ways of thinking and perceiving the world. The interview is from 2008, but it’s still relevant today. Check it out, and buy his book.
Below is the transcription:
(0:00 – 0:56) intro
(0:57 – 1:08) … You do good work with community radio… tell me a bit about that.
(1:09 – 1:49) … trying to make connections between ecological and political issues like power and colonialism… touching on issues of healing
(1:50 – 1:52) How did you come to that way of thinking?
(1:53 – 2:36) … not letting school beat it out of me… too many environmentalists not wanting to make connections between militaristic uses of the earth, weather warfare and genocide, stolen land… we’re not gonna be doing anything effective if we’re just talking about environmental issues or just talking about political issues
(2:37 – 2:46) … when you first started becoming concerned about things around you, what kind of effect did that have on you and your relationships…?
(2:47 – 3:30) it’s a really good feeling to be connected to struggles that go back thousands of years and know that there is a long history of people being proud of resisting and standing up for something that really means something.
(3:31 – 3:37) … How are you able to maintain such a positive outlook…?
(3:38 – 5:57) … it’s overwhelming sometimes… the grief builds up… what’s kept me strongest and sane has been a strong connection with nature.
(5:58 – 6:41) you’ve identified a couple of key things… meaningful work and a connection to nature are very positive forces in ones life. What kind of advice would you give for people who just can’t access the positive work or a positive environment?
(6:42 – 7:45) … something as simple as feeling the pulse of our heart and breathing deep, knowing that each single breath connects us to each tree transpiring oxygen for us to breath
(7:46 – 8:12) … you came to these insights, whether it’s practical, intuitive, training… seems you are quite comfortable with your positions… feeling with the heart rather than thinking with (the brain)
(8:13 – 9:04) … most of my insights have come from spending a lot of time by myself outside…
(9:05 – 9:12) Where’s your secong favorite natural spot?
(9:13 – 9:23) … anywhere along a riverbank…
(9:24 – 9:32) when you’re communing with nature do you feel it’s reciprocal?
(9:33 – 10:53) certainly! … a river is happy to have someone sit by them or a tree would love to be touched just like a human loves to be touched.
(10:54 – 10:58) …tell us where people can plug in to some of your media work?
(10:59 – 11:22) resistanceisfertile.ca … and it is fertile, it certainly isn’t futile.
Study: Wild insects key to crop pollination
Wild insects are far more effective pollinators than non-native bees. So as pesticides decimate insect populations, importing bee colonies is no substitute. Just one more disaster in industrial agriculture’s war on life.
Honeybees augment, but don’t replace diverse insect populations
By Summit Voice
FRISCO — With a lot of recent concerns focused on the decline of honeybee populations, a new study shows that wild insects even even more important as pollinators for certain crops for crops stocked routinely with high densities of honey bees, including almonds, blueberries, mangos and watermelons.
“Our study shows that losses of wild insects from agricultural landscapes impact not only our natural heritage but also our agricultural harvests,” said Lucas A. Garibaldi, of the Universidad Nacional de Río Negro – CONICET, Argentina.
“We found that wild insects consistently enhanced the number of flowers setting fruits or seeds for a broad range of crops and agricultural practices on all continents with farmland,” Garibaldi said. “Long term, productive agricultural systems should include habitat for both honey bees and diverse wild insects. Our study prompts for the implementation of more sustainable agricultural…
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Urban Gardening as Response to Food Deserts
In this TEDtalk, Ron Finley discusses his gardening work in South Central LA, where structural racism has created food deserts, health problems, and other systemic injustices among poor communities of colour. He talks about planting gardens in empty lots, creating farmers markets, putting kids to work, and making gardening sexy.
“To change the community, you have to change the composition of the soil. We are the soil.”
Walmart is only the latest wave in the corporate-industrial concentration of the food system, but its stranglehold is significant… Unfortunately, I don’t think ‘voting with our wallets’ and getting pissed at Wal-Mart is gonna cut it. Stories like this might be important for awareness-raising, but they risk missing the bigger picture of industrial-capitalist control over food, and making us think that changing our consumption habits will change the food system. Not that buying local isn’t great, but it’s easy for it to be incorporated as one more consumer choice among others.